Sorry this is entirely unedited.
Chapter 19
I heaved a deep sigh and let my hand drop to my lap, still clutching onto my great aunt's phone.
"Still no answer?" Austin asked me.
With a disheartened nod, I said, "None whatsoever."
I had been trying to call my phone for the past few minutes but it was either Tori was deliberately trying not to answer it or she was too busy to notice the call. The phone vibrated in my hand and for a second, my heart leapt at the thought that the Idiots might have texted or something, but when I checked the screen, it was only a warning that the battery was nearly empty.
That ought to teach me not to get my hopes up.
"Hey," Austin said. "We'll find them. It's not like Rivermount's that big of a town anyway."
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you're trying to cheer me up," I pointed out. It was true that I was feeling down, but just the thought of Austin consoling me was enough to make me fight a smile simply because he never struck me as that kind of person.
"No one likes to deal with a snarky Reed," he replied easily.
"According to you, I'm always snarky."
"Exactly."
I reached for some Skittles from the console between us and chucked one at him. "You ass."
He ducked, but the candy still hit him on the side of his head. "Hey, now, don't waste our food," he said, but he didn't look particularly mad either.
A few hours ago, this would not have been the case. I could picture him growling something about being a bitch at me, scowling and muttering curses under his breath or something similar to that. Now, though, he simply kept his eyes on the road. In fact, he even looked amused.
I thought back to the game of truth or dare earlier, inevitably remembering that he kind of admitted that I was his "type." I wasn't sure, exactly, how I should feel about that, even as he made it clear that it didn't necessarily mean he was into me.
What really worried me, to be honest, was that it got me thinking if he would have also been my type (if I had one).
I never really thought about it, knowing there was no need for me to have a list. It wasn't like I brought a checklist and pen with me when I slept with guys. I've slept with four guys so far and while I hadn't been pissed drunk at all of them, I'd never been completely sober either, so it never really mattered to me as long as I knew the guy was decent.
If I tried to think about it, however, I've only ever had feelings for one person so far. Sean was smart, but he wasn't like those smart people who liked to constantly flaunt their intelligence. He was sweet, thoughtful, and I admit I liked the way his giddiness showed when he was talking about something he was passionate about.
Austin wasn't anything like Sean, so thinking about this gave me at least a little comfort. There was simply no way Austin could be anything close to my "type," whatever it is, and I liked it that way.
"I'm getting a little bored," he said after a while. "Let's play a game."
"No," I immediately replied.
"Come on," he insisted. "I'm getting sleepy. I really need the distraction."
"It's only a few minutes until we get to Tyler's anyway."
"Reed."
"Austin."
"Fine. I'll just continue driving in this awkward silence until I accidentally fall asleep on the wheel and hit a tree and kill us both, since clearly, that's what you want to—"
I let out a groan, effectively cutting him off as I turned to look at him. "Fine," I agreed through gritted teeth. "What do you want to play?"
A look of triumph crossed his face—making me grit my teeth even more—and I watched as he narrowed his eyes in contemplation. To be honest, I couldn't really think of a lot of games to play while driving, aside from I Spy.
We used to take family trips when Dad was still around. I always got bored during the long rides and often ended up sleeping and missing all the interesting sights we passed, so my father made it a point to keep me up by playing I Spy with me.
It didn't really do much to keep me from being bored—I would get tired of the game after just a few minutes—but he was excellent at coming up with descriptions, so the challenge helped a little.
I was reminded of the e-mail I got from him last week; the one I still hadn't answered, asking me if I wanted to go on a trip with him and his new family. Sadie would really love to meet you, he had said, as well as the kids.
I didn't tell Mom about it. I didn't even tell Tori. I wanted the e-mail to just disappear, but I couldn't make myself delete it. It made me feel sick, knowing that there was still a part of me that didn't want to completely let go.
I was tired of him and the excuses and all those times he hadn't showed up. I was tired of chasing after him, when he was the one who walked away. I'd never really been able to match his strides anyway. His legs were too long, his steps too big, and keeping up with him had never been an easy feat.
It was always like this—just a last minute invite to a trip he planned with his new family. I was like that one thing people forgot to bring on their way out. They'll only realize they left it after they already left the house, but they'll figure it's not worth driving back to the house for, so they can just keep going, knowing it will still be there when they come home again, as if it had never been forgotten in the first place.
No harm done. Not to them, anyway. But I've had enough.
I was tired of being an afterthought.
Suddenly, it felt as though my thoughts were weighing me down. I almost regretted not drinking more beer from the camp, if only to dull my thoughts and drive them away from my father.
I didn't think Austin would have noticed, but when I heard him say, "Hey," I knew he did.
I cleared my throat, willing the lump that formed there to go away, and said, "Thought of a good game yet?"
My voice caught, just slightly, towards the end, but he didn't miss it. As if on cue, we stopped at a spotlight, giving him an opportunity to turn to me completely. I couldn't help but turn away, ashamed, already trying to think of reasons I could give him if he chose to ask what was on my mind.
He was growing better at reading me. I knew this because it was the same with him for me. He might not talk about a lot of things—he was still a stranger to me even all the time we'd spent stuck together—but that didn't mean I didn't know him even just a little bit.
I had hoped he won't call me on it, that he could just pretend he didn't hear that slight break that signaled I wasn't entirely okay, but I already knew it was futile.
Sure enough, he said, "What's wrong?"
I thought about lying, but I had a feeling he would have seen right through the bullshit anyway, so I said, "I don't want to talk about it." I looked down at my hands, trying, for once, not to resort to "snarking" at him, hoping he'd realize I was being serious when I said I didn't want to talk.
Silence hung between us. I was turned away, looking out the window, but I could feel his eyes on me. He just stayed like that, staring at me wordlessly, like he expected me to change my mind without trying to pry again.
"The game," I reminded him, feeling as though it was taking forever for the light to turn green. I couldn't handle his expectant gaze anymore. "We're supposed to be playing a game."
I wasn't sure what he wanted me to say or what he expected me to do, but he dropped his gaze with a little sigh.
"I know you hate me. And I know you don't like being stuck with me either," he said. "But don't hesitate to talk to, uhh"—he tugged at his collar uncomfortably—"to me about whatever shit is bothering you."
To say I was surprised would have been an understatement. I could tell he wasn't exactly on board with the whole idea, or that he wasn't exactly used to saying things like that, and for some reason, I felt grateful—that he wasn't forcing me to talk; or that he offered to listen despite his discomfort. Whichever it was, however, there was no way I was going to change my mind.
"Thank you," I finally said after what felt like forever. Then the light turned green, as if it was telling me to go ahead, talk, just go, but I couldn't, so instead I said, "But I really don't want to talk about it."
He stared at me for a beat longer than necessary, as if to make sure I wasn't going to change my mind, before wordlessly shifting gears to continue driving.
For a few seconds, we let the silence reign so that there was nothing but the sound of Georgina's engine and the occasional squeaking from who-knows-what-part-of-the-car when there were some humps or whatever on the road.
"How about this," he finally said, breaking the silence. "I'll tell you something in exchange."
"I thought we were playing a game," I said, slumping back against my chair, feeling more weary than I used to just a few moments ago.
He lazily lifted a shoulder. "This can be our game."
I shook my head. "Nope."
"Come on."
"For it to be a game, we need rules and a prize," I said. "Take a left here."
"Then we'll establish some," he replied without thinking twice about it. "Loser has to do three things the winner tells him or her to."
At that moment, I already knew that this was a bad idea. It wasn't just my usual pessimism. There was also something nagging at me, as if it was trying to convince me to back off, that I certainly didn't want to get involved in something like this. it wasn't just the worry of losing, either, or the admittedly ominous prize—it was the game itself.
Austin must have taken my silence as his cue to continue, "One of us lays out a condition. A challenge or whatever," he said. "Uhhh... we get two passes each. The one who passes twice first loses."
"Condition?" I shook my head, not entirely grasping what he meant. "Challenge?"
"I'll go first," he offered.
I shook my head. "I never agreed to play."
He, however, completely ignored me. "If you tell me what was bothering you just now," he began, "I'll tell you something no one else knows about me."
I narrowed my eyes. "That gives me no guarantee at all," I complained. "How will I know you're not just going to tell me a weird fetish of yours or the color of your underwear—"
"The color of my underwear?" he cut in, sounding absolutely amused. "You want to know the color of my underwear?"
"I never said that," I snapped at him, crossing my arms over my chest.
"You brought it up."
I glared at him but, as usual, it didn't seem to faze him. I stifled a groan, wondering if there was a crash course on dealing with people like Austin, because I was completely lost. Sure, I might be getting better at reading him, but I was shit at dealing with his antics.
I gave him an unimpressed stare. "Can we please just go back to the matter at hand?"
"Fine," he agreed. Then, he paused, as if to think about it, before saying, "Depending on the level of secrecy of what you're going to tell me, I'll—"
"Level of secrecy?" I repeated, my nose slightly wrinkled at the way the phrase sounded. It was like plan of action all over again.
He gave me a sideways glance before saying, "Stop it. I'm serious."
"Level of secrecy?" I fought back a snort, miserably failing, which only made him glare at me.
"Look, I mean it," he said, finally starting to sound irritated. He did, however, sound more embarrassed than pissed. "If it's really something big, then I'm going to tell you something just as big."
"How would you even know that I'm telling the truth?"
He shrugged but didn't say anything.
It was so irrational—the whole thing. It hardly seemed worth it. It wasn't like either of us were going to get something from it, nor was there a reason for us to want to know about what the other is hiding. There was, however, something about the way he was letting his guard down that made me reconsider.
All night, he had been as closed off as a stranger on the bus, and here he was opening some kind of Pandora's box containing his secrets. There was no denying that I was completely, utterly curious about him, but there was also the thought of giving something in return.
Give and take. The world was made up of a series of giving and taking and this. Or at least it should be. When something screws up the balance, that's where all the fucked up things happen. When Dad left, he took everything my life and Mom's with him, leaving us stumbling, almost empty-handed, and even up until now he never returned anything that could possibly pay for all the lost chances and missed opportunities.
Here was a guy, a stranger, no less, offering this give and take, and for some particular reason, I found myself finding comfort in the thought that as much as anyone wanted to think otherwise, we were never going to see each other again anyway.
This would be nothing but a slight blip in the summer of my eighteenth year; a story to laugh about ten years in the future when Tori and I think back to our teenage days. On the next few weeks, Austin and I might bump into each other at Coffee Overdose, or perhaps at a beach party, and it will, at most, be awkward as fuck. I can almost see the two of us hardly acknowledging each other.
Even then, he was leaving by the end of summer, and so was I, and after that, we might as well not know each other at all. Things often worked out that way—and for good reason too.
Austin was someone fleeting, and telling him was like telling a stranger I randomly dialed on the phone, so even as my mind was convincing me not to tell him, the words came tumbling out.
"My dad is an asshole."
He didn't say anything.
We were only ten more minutes away from Tyler's house and from here on, the route was no longer complicated. We were back in the quieter neighborhoods and there was something almost eerie about the seemingly lifeless houses.
We should be asleep, the two of us, tucked into bed with the lights turned off, but as if by some ridiculous twist of fate, I was sitting in a car that was probably older than me, with a guy who was fleeting, and I was telling him about the things I didn't usually like to speak of.
"He left when I was young," I elaborated. "Around ten years ago." I picked on the hem of my shirt, finding a loose thread and fiddling with it. I couldn't raise my gaze to his. "My mom was four months pregnant. She lost the baby over the stress of the divorce."
"Holy shit."
"He knew she was pregnant," I said, pushing past the lump in my throat. "We even picked names. Bought a dictionary of baby names. For all I knew, he was just as excited about the baby as I was, but then one day, he left and never came back."
I could feel my anger tipping past the point of pretense. There was nothing I felt for my father but cold anger and contempt, the longing for who he once was already long gone over the years of missed phone calls and cancelled dinner reservations.
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to continue. "The communication between us after that was never stable. Sometimes, he won't call or answer e-mails for over a year, then he'll reappear, only to disappear again six months or three years later."
"Disappear?"
"Like he never even existed." Back then, telling someone about this would have brought tears to my eyes, but now they were dry, like I could no longer shed tears for someone like my father again.
"He would just stop calling?"
"And when he comes back," I said, "no explanations. No excuses. Like he never even left me hanging in the first place."
He didn't say anything at first. I chalked it up to him trying to come up with something to say. I kept quiet, feeling like I've said more than enough, and chose to lean back against the seat and curl into myself.
Even after I said the words out loud, I still couldn't believe I told him about this. It wasn't like it was anything out of the ordinary—I was pretty sure there were a lot of families broken by the same kind of guy my father had always been—but with my father came one of my weaknesses, one I've always pretended never existed.
After so many years of pretending, I got used to it for real. I wasn't the same pathetic who stayed on that front porch despite the growing cold or the shadows that began to swallow the house as the sun set, waiting for him to retrace all those steps back to me.
"Is he the reason why you don't believe in love?"
I turned to him, surprised he thought of asking this in the first place, before I said, "Just one of many."
"You can't seriously believe all guys are like him," he said, sounding almost accusing.
"Even so," I said, "guys like him do exist. It's one of the only things I'm absolutely certain of. They're bound to come, at least once in your life to screw everything up. I won't risk it."
"Why the hell not?" he demanded, sounding, for once, like he couldn't understand me at all, like he was no longer one step ahead of me.
"Because it's not worth it," I replied, thinking back to Tori's first breakup, or the sibling I lost, or Mom's red-rimmed eyes and the sobs I heard from her room when she thought I was asleep. "It's never worth it."
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Hi omg sorry that was a whole chapter with them driving. Just. Driving. I'm sorry. I didn't expect the conversation to last that long. I hope you still liked it though? And thank you so much for reading! <333 You are all fabulous.